The Black Dress
by Lattelady
Summary: A SamAinsley Romance...The real reason Ainsley was wearing the lovely black dress when she was called to the White House in 'Night Five.' And the romance that follows when Sam gives her a ride home.


**Disclaimer: **They don't belong to me, but at this point I'm not sure who they do belong to. The lines taken from the song _I'm the Very Model of a Modern Major-General_ are from Gilbert and Sullivan's _The Pirates_ _of Penzance_

**Rating: **PG-13 possibly R at the end

**Pairing: **Sam and Ainsley

**Spoiler: **Night Five

**Synopsis: **The real reason Ainsley wore that sexy dress to a Republican fundraiser, and a continuation of Sam's reaction to it.

**Thanks: **to Tracy and Monica, two of the most supportive beta readers in the world.

****

**_The Black Dress_**

**_By_**

_Lattelady_

****

The changes Sam Seaborn needed to make to the UN speech were slight and should have been easy, but he was having trouble staying on task. The rain pattering against his office windows kept distracting him, or so he told himself. It was simpler to blame the late-winter thunderstorm that had blown in during the last hour, than to look too closely at the memory of soft southern-accented words, spoken in a strained feminine voice, which kept trying to divert his attention.

'_I like it when the guys tease me; it's an inadvertent show of respect. I'm on the team and I don't mind it when it gets sexual…_But the words sounded strange coming from Ainsley. '_And you know what? I like sex…'_ He didn't doubt it, most people did, but most people didn't declare it in ringing tones while standing in the West Wing of the White House.

Sam shook his head in an attempt to displace her words and tried to read what he'd just typed, but his eyes wouldn't track easily on the monitor. Instead he stared off into space wondering why she had sounded so tense, and tried to remember what had happened the last time he'd heard her tone so flat. His mind associated it with a hurt expression on her face and Gilbert and Sullivan, but that didn't make any sense.

'_The point is that sexual revolution tends to get in the way of actual revolution. Nonsense issues take attention away from real ones: pay equity, child care, honest to God sexual harassment, and in this case a speech in front of the UN General Assembly.'_

Sam took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. '_Was his little Republican--wooh Nellie, gotta restate that one Seaborn. Was THE little Republican beginning to think like a Democrat?'_ He frowned at the mental slip, but let it go when he realized how late it had become. He needed to finish proofing his rewrite. Taking a swallow of cold coffee he forced himself to block out any memory of Ainsley in a sensuous black dress, her strange argument with the temp from the typing pool, and concentrate only on her warning that some of the language in the President's speech was ambiguous enough to give them legal problems down the road.

………………

"Ginger," Sam called as he punched in the code that would send this newest draft of the UN speech to the main printer in the Communications Bullpen. He was finally satisfied with the changes and hoped Ainsley would be.

"Mr. Seaborn, she and Bonny went home after they ran that errand for Mr. Ziegler at OEOB." Celia Walton stood in his office door. "Is there anything I can get for you, before I leave?"

"I was going to ask you to bring me the speech I've just sent to the printer, but you might as well head on out of here. I can get it myself."

"That's okay; I've got to finish closing down and your speech shouldn't take that long to print." She nodded toward the large machine on the other side of the Communications Bullpen as it jumped to life.

"Hey, Celia," He called out as he stood behind his desk with his phone in one hand. "How come you're calling me Mr. Seaborn, all of the sudden? You called me Sam when you were arguing with Ainsley."

"I was trying to make a point before." She shrugged and curled her nose determined not get defensive. She'd called him a sexist less than two hours ago, and was feeling uncomfortable about the way she'd handled it. "I'm sorry for jumping on you the way I did earlier tonight. It was unprofessional of me to discuss it with you in the middle of the Bullpen."

"Don't worry about it. I was the one who kept bringing it up," he shrugged and dialed a familiar number. "Ainsley made her opinion on the matter well known and so did you. I'm the one who's sorry; I didn't mean to offend you. I'll be more careful in the future." He hoped Celia had been fooled by the diminutive blonde's comments, even if he hadn't. Something was bothering her and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. If she'd been angry at his casual remark, he had no doubt she would have let him know it. She'd had no qualms about tearing him apart on national TV. He couldn't imagine that she'd be shy about doing so in his Bullpen.

"Thank you, ah…Sam." Celia nodded, as she turned and headed for the printer. She was missing something from the whole incident, but didn't know what it was. Though she hadn't worked closely enough with Sam Seaborn to introduce herself before tonight, his reputation among the clerical staff of the White House was spotless. It had caught her off guard when he'd told the blonde woman wearing an evening gown that '_she could make a good dog break his leash_.' It had surprised her even more when she'd discovered that the woman he was talking to was a White House Associate Counsel.

When she walked back into Sam's office she was struck by his gentle tone of voice, as he spoke on the phone. Though what she could hear of the conversation was mundane, it sounded special when coming from him. "Ains, it's Sam. I'm glad you're still here. I'd like to bring the final draft over…It's out of the printer now…Thanks, I'll see you in a few minutes." He put down the receiver and looked up as Celia handed him the stack of papers.

That's when the young temp saw the warmth in his eyes and softening of his expression. Suddenly she knew what she'd missed earlier. Sam Seaborn cared about Ainsley Hayes! Celia hadn't heard a word of gossip, about them in the time she'd been there, so it caught her by surprise. She didn't think any more highly of office romance than she did of inappropriate language in the workplace, but something made her back away from that topic. Maybe it was the fact that a man who was highly verbal, one who earned his living as a speech writer had expressed himself like a twelve year old boy. It made Celia wonder if Sam even realized that he was attracted to Ms Hayes. All she could do was smile and shake her head. '_Men, they were all the same. Here was one who was capable of writing words that could sway public opinion, but was unable to express himself properly to a woman he liked?'_

…………….

Ten Minutes later Sam found himself standing in the doorway to Ainsley's new office. A part of him missed the old one, in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue, though he knew she didn't. It had gotten so hot in there around the holidays that Oliver Babish had almost passed out during one rather long meeting. It was what had finally gotten her office moved out of the sub-basement.

The Deputy Communications Director peered into the darkened room. The lights were off except for a small reading lamp on her desk, and until his eyes adjusted, all he could see was a pool of light and Ainsley standing silhouetted against the window. She'd changed back into the long black dress with the back that scooped until the material caught snugly around her bottom. Seeing her like that took his breath away. All he wanted to do was stare, but his reaction to her dress had caused enough trouble for one night.

"Ainsley," his voice came out in a whisper. She looked lovely with flashes of lightening reflecting off her bared shoulders and fair hair. His mouth went suddenly dry.

"Are those the changes?" She kept her attention focused on the storm outside her window in an attempt to ignore the one that raged inside of her as Sam moved quietly to stand behind her left shoulder.

"_Yeah_…" His voice was huskier than he would have liked, but he was proud that he was able to speak at all. He was inches away from her and his fingers itched to run along her back until he cupped the base of her spine. Her waist was so slim he was tempted to see if it would fit in the span of his hands.

She took the papers from his grasp without looking at him, then turned to her right to step around him and walk over to her desk. Ainsley studied the revisions, as she held the pages under her reading light, but was careful to keep her face in the deep shadows. "Good, this is very good, Sam. You've made the 25 assessment for all 'Category A' nations very clear. The language is concise and as usual, beautiful." Her voice broke and she had to clear her throat.

"Ainsley what's wrong?" He moved closer, but she backed away from him and the light on her desk.

"Nothing's wrong, Sam. The speech is great."

"Forget the speech." A knot was forming in his stomach and he didn't like it. "What I said earlier, it really bothered you, didn't it? You're upset by my crack about how you looked in that dress, aren't you?" He moved closer to her, wanting to see her face when she answered him.

"Enough with the dress already!" She slipped into her chair with all the dignity she could muster, and then ruined the visual, when she leaned her elbow on her desk with her face in her hand. "It did its job. Can we just forget about it now?"

"What job was it supposed to do?" He knelt by her chair. "Make me realize---'

"Sam please---" She turned toward him, not aware he'd blocked her escape route or that the distance between them had been an illusion caused by his taller frame standing over her shorter one. Since he was crouched at her side, she was face to face with the reality of how close he was.

"---that you're the most beautiful women I've ever met?" He talked over her words as he gripped the arms of her chair so she couldn't pull away from him.

"You think I'm beautiful?" She looked him in the eyes for the first time since he'd entered her office that night.

"Of course," he whispered. The UN speech lay forgotten, where she'd dropped it on her desk. He cupped her cheek with his right hand and examined her face carefully. She was upset and it appeared as if she'd been crying. "Ains, what's wrong?"

"I'm just tired, Sam." She slumped in her chair, and let her fingers dance over his arm. The warmth from his hair roughened skin between his rolled shirt sleeve and wrist had a soothing affect on her. "I'm bone weary and a little bit heart sick."

"Has Celia been after you again?" He couldn't stop running his thumb over her cheek. Her skin felt as soft as damp velvet.

"Who?"

"Celia, the temp, you know, the one who thinks I'm a sexist."

"If your secretary had been here, I would have dealt with it." Ainsley gently slid her hand to his shoulder. There was something natural and right about touching him, and she didn't want to stop, but it had become too intimate stroking his skin. "And you _are_ a sexist, Sam."

"Pardon me! I thought you said I wasn't?" He looked truly surprised.

"I lied." Ainsley had had enough of Celia and her attitude, but she wasn't letting Sam off the hook so easily.

"I'll have you know 'I'm the very model of a modern…'"

"Major-General?" She tilted her head and her eyebrows rose, but the usual joy she took in word games with Sam, never reached her eyes. "And I'm sure you 'have information vegetable, animal and mineral.' But you're still a sexist."

"All right that's it. When Gilbert and Sullivan can't even make you look happier, I know it's time to get you out of here." He stood, but kept his hand on her elbow as she rose along with him. "Do you need a ride home?"

"I'd really appreciate it, I'll never get a cab in this weather." She was relieved he'd stopped questioning her. The last thing she needed was for Sam Seaborn to start prying into the success or failure of her evening.

"Meet me at the South Lobby entrance in ten minutes, that'll give me time to finish up and bring the car around. You aren't dressed for a sprint to my parking space." He grabbed his speech off her desk and headed back to his own office.

"Oh Sam, what are you doing to me?" Ainsley muttered, as his back disappeared around the corner that led to the Communications Bullpen. She'd seen the satisfied grin he hadn't been quick enough to hide. Suddenly butterflies joined the knots that were in her stomach from earlier in the evening.

……………………

For the first time since she'd left her apartment that night, heading for a fundraiser she hadn't wanted to attend, Ainsley let her muscles begin to relax. She leaned back into the buttery smooth leather seat of Sam's car, and let his presence surround her. A small smile drifted across her face because it was always a joy to ride with him. She'd read that some men chose their cars to suit their personalities. Sam was no exception. He drove a sleek midnight-blue Porsche Carrera. She felt the quietly powerful throb of the engine, even at sedate city speeds, and it reminded her of him. Cool and sophisticated on the outside with flashes of temper he liked to think he kept well hidden, and passion in his written words, which told of depths untapped in his everyday life.

"You know you never did answer my question." Sam glanced at her reflection in his rearview mirror and saw her eyes pop open in surprise.

"Which question was that?" Her voice was almost too casual, as she ducked her head and reached for the pins that held the braid wrapped around her ponytail.

"Was Celia giving you a difficult time again?" He was sorry he had to keep his eyes on the road. In his opinion, a woman taking down her hair was extremely sensuous. Josh had teased him more than once about his 'hair fetish'.

"Of course not. I haven't talked to her since I left your bullpen to get a cupcake then went back to my office to change and wait for you to finish the rewrite." She rolled her eyes as she dropped her hairpins into her tiny beaded purse, and then worked to free her hair from the tight braid and the confines of a ponytail. "Besides, like I said before, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but you don't always have to, you know?" His eyes met hers quickly in the mirror again. He knew they were both thinking about her first day at the White House, but neither would mention it.

"Sam, what's this all about?" She sighed as her hair fell loose around her shoulders and down her back. The tension from the early part of the evening had given her a headache. It was a relief to finally be free of the more formal hair style.

"I was wondering why you found it necessary to…well…some of the things you said to Celia, didn't sound like the Ainsley Hayes I know." Out of the corner of his eye he could see a tumble of long blonde strands and it took all his effort to keep his eyes on the road.

"Pardon me?" She sat up very straight ready to do battle. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"More along the lines of a Master of Misdirection," Sam shrugged as he pulled into a parking space half a block from her brownstone. "And before you get yourself all worked up, I'm only asking because you were defending me and…well…it doesn't make any sense for you to do that if you didn't really mean what you said."

"I am an attorney for the White House. Maybe I was trying to head off a sexual harassment suit before it was filed?"

"Was that what you were doing?" He murmured.

"I…" The hurt look on his face stole the last of her bravado and she leaned her head back against the seat. "No, no it wasn't. I didn't like what she was insinuating. If I'd let it go, she'd have ruined the nicest thing that happened to me all evening," she whispered.

"Ainsley…," Sam frowned as he remembered her jaunty entrance into his office and her smug comment about being paged to come into work while she was at a Republican social function. Before he could ask her about it, lightening lit up the sky and thunder cracked almost over their heads, bringing with it a torrent of rain that echoed through the car as it pounded on the roof.

"Okay, enough of this," Sam growled as he put his windshield wipers on high and carefully pulled out of his parking space. "You'll drown if you go out in that." He nodded toward the window as he slowly negotiated the half-mile that separated her brownstone from his condo. "And since I was taught to always walk a lady to her door, I'd be swept away right along with you. There's underground parking at my place, we can wait out the storm there."

"I'll be fine Sam, and you don't have to get out of your car. A cab driver wouldn't have bothered, especially on a night like this. No matter how much of a tip I gave him."

"I'm not a cab driver and I'd hate to see you ruin that dress." He gripped the wheel and forced himself to concentrate on his driving. It would be too easy to let his mind wander to the woman beside him and how lovely she looked tonight.

Over the last year he and Ainsley had developed a friendship, but it was a friendship with careful boundaries. They ate lunch together two or three times a week, often shared a late night dinner after work, and talked on the phone numerous times a day. Even though they lived within walking distance of one another, he'd only been to her place when she'd had a housewarming the previous fall, and she'd only been to his once, during the MS hearings, when the entire Senior Staff had gathered for a marathon brainstorming session. They'd been very careful to never be alone in private intimate surroundings, all that was about to change.

…………………

When they walked through the underground garage in Sam's building, he slipped out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "You've got to be freezing," he muttered as he gently lifted her hair so it wasn't trapped between her back and his coat. All the while he told himself his actions were prompted by the return to cooler late-winter temperatures, and not because it gave him an excuse to touch her.

"Thanks," Ainsley whispered. She couldn't stop herself from burying her nose in the collar that had recently been pressed against his neck or breathing in deeply the scent of his aftershave. "I…a…didn't want to ruin the lines of my dress by wearing a coat, and figured I could get away with it because I'd planned on being home long before the storm broke."

"Planning an early evening were you?" The elevator ride to Sam's floor didn't take long and he unlocked his door and flipped on the hallway light. "Republican social events don't hold the same fascination, they used to?" He stood back and watched her carefully. Taking in the slight slump of her shoulders, and the way her hands fisted in the silk shawl she was wearing like a long scarf over the lapels of his coat.

"Saamm," her voice shook slightly and he knew he'd hit on the reason she was acting so strangely. "Do we have to discuss this?"

"Not if you don't want to." He moved around the living room turning on lights, thankful that his cleaning lady had been there the day before. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll see if I can find something for us to eat, you must be starving."

"Not really, but some tea would be great." Absent-mindedly she clutched his coat tighter against her. He'd been right she, was cold, but it was a cold that came from the inside more than the change in weather.

"Did you just turn down food?" His brows rose in surprise. Her reputation for eating almost anything at anytime was practically legend around the White House.

"I'm not _always_ hungry, but don't let me stop you. Go ahead and fix yourself something." She knew it was out of character, but her stomach had been tied in knots ever since things had gone so badly at the Federalist Society. It would be impossible to fool anyone if she had to pretend to eat in front of them. She'd told Sam earlier that she was going to get a cupcake because it was a good exit line after going rounds with Celia, and she knew no one would be watching when she didn't eat it.

"No, I ate earlier. Tea is about all I'm up for, too." He wanted to question her further, but she'd turned her back in an attempt to ignore him.

………………..

After Sam put the kettle on to boil, he made a side trip to his bedroom to change into a pair of comfortable old jeans and get rid of his tie. Five minutes later he was back, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He found Ainsley exactly where he'd left her, standing in the middle of his living room with his jacket wrapped tightly around her.

"Drink this, it'll warm you up." He handed her a mug and put the other on the coffee table.

"Mmmm, thanks." She wrapped her hands around the hot cup and sipped. "This really helps."

"Here, give me that jacket. It got wet when I went to get the car and it's still damp. I'll find something dry to keep your shoulders warm." He helped her out of his suit coat and headed back to his bedroom.

"Sam, may I borrow some socks, too." Ainsley looked up with a sheepish grin, as she sat on his couch and unfastened the straps on a pair of four-inch black sandals.

"Socks? You're not wearing any…" It was obvious she didn't have on any nylons, and he'd bet a years salary that there was no bra under that black silky halter top. He looked her up and down and tried not to think about that dress and what was between it and Ainsley's skin. "Good God woman, do you have on any clothes under that dress?"

"Saamm…what a question to ask me," her voice sounded breathy and her face turned beet red. "You need not worry that I will impose on anymore of your personal items."

"Well that's a relief," he laughed. "Because somehow I don't think I've got much else that'll fit you." Even as he said the words, he could picture her standing there with a pair of his boxers hanging low on her hips and one of his crisp white dress shirts, unbuttoned to her navel.

"Sam, are you all right?" Ainsley closed the distance between them, a worried expression on her face.

"Yeah…ah…yeah…sweatshirt…socks, be right back." Turning quickly he shook his head and muttered under his breath, "come on Seaborn, think showers, cold showers, very cold ones."

"Sam, are you talking to yourself in there?"

'_Oops, busted,_' he grinned to himself, and decided that '_busted' _was a word he may want to stay away from at the moment. "No, nope," he called out as he dug through his drawers. "But I do have one question." He took a second to get his breathing under control, and then headed back to Ainsley, clothes in hand.

"What's your question?" She looked up at him with very blue eyes.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you." He looked her over from head to toe, just as he'd done when she'd walked into his office earlier that night. "But why is it that women will go to any length, including freezing, in the name of fashion?"

"Coming from Mr. GQ, that's a pretty silly question," her voice cracked, as she reached for the garments in his hands. They stood inches apart, both holding his old washed out Duke sweatshirt. She tugged but he wouldn't let go. Her eyes grew huge as she looked up into his, which burned like blue fire.

"You're right…covering that dress…with anything more than the wrap you had on…would have…ruined it." His words were slow and hypnotic. They wrapped around Ainsley and pulled her a step closer.

"Sam…did you bring me here tonight because I said…because I said I liked sex?" She felt her throat close, frozen, waiting for his response.

"Ainsley…" He wasn't sure how to answer her. He'd wanted her for almost as long as he'd known her, but he didn't believe he was the type to bring a woman to his home under false pretenses. To buy time to think, he undid her death grip on the sweatshirt and guided it over her head as she pulled her arms into the sleeves.

"Let me do that for you," Sam smiled at the picture she made as she struggled to roll up the cuffs of a sweatshirt that was a number of sizes too large. He reached for her right arm and made quick work of rolling back the sleeve. "What do you know, there really is a hand in here," he whispered. Before reaching for the other one, he let his fingers dance over her palm, while never taking his eyes off hers. "Let's see what I can find up your other sleeve."

"Sam, you didn't answer my question, because if it is…well…I…" They were inches apart and she could feel his breath on her upturned face.

"Hush, I'm thinking." He finished rolling back the second cuff, a frown etched on his handsome face, as he felt her begin to tremble beneath his touch. She was his friend, but she was more than that, too. They had a chemistry about them that they'd studiously ignored, since he almost kissed her late one night in the White House Mess. Looking back he was glad he'd waited, because days later President Bartlet had gone public with the news of his MS. The timing had been all wrong. Part of him wondered if they'd ever have a time that was right for them.

"Sam please, you're scaring me." Ainsley's eyes were very blue as she looked up at him and watched emotions flash across his face. He hadn't been that open with her since the night last May, when for a moment, she'd been sure he had been about to kiss her. But he hadn't and in a small display of disappointment, she'd bumped into him as they had climbed the stairs. It had made him slosh coffee all over the tray he had been carrying.

"You don't ever have to be afraid of me." He cupped her face with both hands, relieved that he'd finally figured out the answer to her question. "You're here because it's raining and you looked a bit lonely and lost---"

"Sa---" She tried to interrupt him, but he gently rubbed his thumbs over her lips.

"Shhhh let me finish. And because you said you were 'bone weary and a bit heart sick.' I couldn't leave you alone like that. About the other, well I'd be lying if I said it had nothing to do with why you're here, but it's not what you think. When you said you liked sex, it didn't make me decide you were easy, quite the contrary. It made me wonder what in the world had happened to make the Ainsley Hayes I know make such a statement in public."

"You knew I was ly…?" She gasped and spoke very quickly. Her words tumbled over one another until they almost ran together. "I had to say something! It had to be…well…outrageous. That woman was ruining the one bright spot of my evening." It wasn't that Ainsley didn't like sex. It was that her studies and then her work had taken priority over her social life. She'd had two affairs, one in law school and one soon after she'd moved to DC. Both had left her unfulfilled and wondering what all the fuss was about. Her last lover had gone so far as to call her repressed. For a while she'd been foolish enough to believe him. In the last year things had changed. She'd changed, and if the shaking in her insides was any evidence, the man standing inches away from her had a lot to do with it.

"So I made your evening, did I?" Sam's brow rose and he smirked. He watched her closely trying to read beneath the many levels of what she'd just said. He found it hard to believe that a woman whose passions lay so close to the surface, might have doubts about her sexuality.

"You're not going to leave that one alone are you?" She absently-mindedly rubbed her left cheek against the large palms that once again held her face captive. Her little movement sent vibrations up his arm and crashing into his gut.

"What happened tonight at the Federalist Society?" His voice was hoarse, with the effort it took to keep his movements slow and light as he pulled her against him. For some reason, that he couldn't remember, he felt it was necessary to allow her the room to pull free from his embrace if she chose.

"Oh Sam, it was awful," she whispered against his neck. The fight went out of her, as she sagged against him and let someone else support her for a change.

"What happened, Ains?" He picked her up and sat them on his sofa. Not wanting to let her too far out of his reach, he kept her legs across his lap and their bodies turned close together. "And what does it have to do with that stunning dress you're wearing?" He lightly fingered the thin halter straps that went over her shoulders and disappeared under the collar of the sweatshirt she was wearing.

"I wore the dress so I could tell myself that _it_ was the reason people were starring at me, not because of…well because of where I work."

"They gave you a hard time?" He needed to touch her so he ran his hand under her jaw line and lifted her chin.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy, Sam." She shrugged and held onto his free hand. "I'm a Republican working in a White House that is controlled by Democrats. I just didn't expect it to be as bad as it was!"

"The dress didn't work?" He didn't understand how any man who was still breathing could be unresponsive to Ainsley in anything she wore, let alone a dress that left little to the imagination.

"No, I think it did." She smiled as she remembered the surprised expression on the faces of some of her old colleagues. "Let's just say I caused a reaction. Most of the evening I'd been able to convince myself that it was the dress. Then I got back to the White House and that secretary of yours began going on about how I let my sexuality diminish my power. She had it almost right. It wasn't my power that was diminished, it was me."

"That dress doesn't diminish anything about you, it enhances. Do you have any idea how lovely you look? It takes power dressing to a whole new level."

"Somehow I don't think my momma would agree with you."

"I get the feeling that there isn't much your parents and I would agree on, so that doesn't worry me. But I am sorry I gave Celia the ammunition to make you doubt yourself."

"Don't ever be sorry about what you said." She cupped his cheek and smiled. "It made everything that had happened at the fundraiser okay. I should have known it was going to be bad and stayed away. But darn it all, I'm a Republican and I wanted to go. I guess I've been so busy in the last year I didn't realize how many of my old acquaintances had cut me out. When all you do is work and sleep, you don't miss the fact that your phone hardly ever rings anymore. I just didn't expect old adversaries…I didn't expect…" Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes clouded with hurt causing her to quickly change the subject. "You know Sam I'd really love some of my tea." She reached for her mug and tried to hand him his.

"What didn't you expect?" He took both containers from her hands and put them on the end table. "Come on Ains, you've told me this much."

She didn't want to say it, but somehow the words tumbled out. "I didn't expect Mary Marsh to call me your new whore," she whispered. Ainsley held her head high, but her voice quivered, then broke when she realized her words hit him like blows. "I'm sorry Sam."

"No I'm the one who's sorry." He held her closer and slipped his hand under her the back of her sweatshirt, overcome by the need to touch her.

"I was going to tell CJ about it in the morning in-case there was some backlash in the press, but I was going to ask her not to say anything to you." She whispered against his neck.

"Damn it, why not?" He ground his teeth to keep from yelling. "That pious bitch has stuck her nose in where it doesn't belong one time too many!"

"Sam please, don't make a fuss, it'll only makes matters worse." She could feel her eyes begin to fill, but refused to let the tears fall. "The remark was aimed at me, not you."

"The hell it wasn't. That woman has never gotten over my friendship with Laurie. Now she's trying to blacken your name too." He fought to keep his anger in check. Ainsley had done nothing to deserve that woman's wrath, but it hadn't stopped the self-righteous gutter snipe from going after her anyway.

"My name doesn't need any blackening in the Republican Party nowadays. If I didn't know it before tonight, I do now," she sighed. "It's no loss. Mary's never liked me anyway. She's always thought I was too liberal."

"Is she insane?" Sam blinked in shock. "You're not liberal."

"Not compared to you I'm not, but compared to her?" Ainsley shrugged.

"Point taken," Sam conceded.

"It wasn't all bad, though." A tiny grin played around Ainsley's lips as she rested against Sam. His hand was rubbing up and down her back turning her bones to jelly. "After she dropped her little bomb, she gave me that snidely superior look she usually reserves for Democrats. I felt giddy with relief because I was finally free to say anything I wanted to her. I gave her my best southern belle smile and in a voice so sweet my momma would've been proud of me, I told her, _'since Sam Seaborn wasn't a dried-up, closed-minded old prune, like some people I knew, I doubted very much, companionship for an evening was any problem for him.' _I was assuring her that I had no way of knowing for sure, when my pager went off."

"Oh my God…" Sam almost choked laughing. "I can't believe you said that. You're marvelous."

"Well it is a well known fact around the Republican Party that Mary Marsh has on occasion been known to use political favors to assure herself of an acceptable escort."

"Ainsley you're unbelievable." His hand moved to the base of her spine and his fingers kneaded her tight muscles. "Unfortunately, following your triumphant exit from the Federalist Society, you had to come back to the West Wing and be hit with my derogatory comments."

"No Sam, you made my evening, but I just realized something. If it had been anyone else who said that to me I'd have probably agreed with Celia. It was because it was coming from you that it was all right." She nuzzled his neck, enjoying the scent and texture of his skin. "Don't ever be sorry that you said what you did, because I'm not."

"Are you sure you want to be discussing this now?" He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap. It took all his self-control to keep from moaning when her chest pressed against his verifying that there was no bra under the soft material of her dress.

"I think it's something we've been skirting around for a while now."

"So do I." He shifted and lowered her to the couch. His eyes wandered over her face and fastened on her lips. "I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, but there's something you have to understand about me."

"What?" It felt unbelievable to have his body pressed against hers and she was quickly losing the ability to speak in coherent sentences.

"Just because you said you liked sex, doesn't mean I'm easy." He appeared so serious that it took her a moment to realize that he was letting her set the pace.

"Ahhh…well…why don't we try one…ahhh…kiss?" Ainsley looked at him through her lashes as she held on to him for dear life. One of his hands was doing wonderful things to her back as he shifted them, until they were both lying full length on the sofa. "And…ahhh…see where that…takes us?"

"Like this?" He pillowed her head in the crook of his arm and nibbled gently on her mouth.

She sighed and pulled him closer as she felt his tongue swipe against her lips. "Ohhh," she moaned and her tongue met his. She moved against him trying to find the exact angle of her head that would allow her the best access to his mouth. They finally pulled apart gasping. "More…please…Sam," Ainsley drew in deep raspy breaths as she kissed her way up the side of his neck.

"Oh yes," his voice was gruff with need. He reached up and pulled off his glasses. When he stretched to put them on the end table, it drove his body tightly against hers.

"Aaahhhh…." She shivered, as she felt him pressed intimately against her stomach. "A…Sam…a…you know…maybe you'd better rethink that statement about you not being easy."

"What can I say, I'm a guy," he whispered.

"Is that all this is, just you being a guy?" She was dizzy at the implication. For a moment they had been about to jump off a cliff together and she wanted badly to continue, but not with Sam, for the wrong reasons.

"No, I told you earlier I didn't bring you here for sex, despite how it may look, now." He fought to catch his breath while absently playing with strands of long blonde hair. "I may be a guy and respond like one to a beautiful and desirable woman, but I am not easy and I do not have one night stands."

"Even with Republicans?" Her voice trembled. Neither was sure if she was serious or just attempting to lighten the mood.

"Especially not with Republicans," Sam snorted. "Once we start this it won't be simple and right now I can't promise you forever. You need to be sure _we're_ worth the trouble, because Ainsley, I believe we could get very complicated, in a hurry and stay that way for a long time."

"You're right, about all of it, so you have to be sure too." She nibbled on her lip worried he might pull away from her, but unsure what she would do if he didn't.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He leaned his forehead against hers, absorbing her scent.

"All right…then you need to know that I haven't been with a man for a while and the men I have been with…well…they were a mediocre experience, to say the least." Her words spilled out and she hated that in a moment when she wanted to feel her strongest she began to tremble.

"Ainsley," Sam murmured and lifted her chin so she was looking him in the eyes. "I figured as much, from what you said earlier. Why don't we take this into the bedroom and do it properly?" He slid off the couch and held out his hand to help her up. "And, to set your mind at rest, I never consider an endeavor complete if I've only achieved mediocre."

"That _is_ nice to know." She smiled, but couldn't suppress a shiver as she rose to stand in front of him. "I…ahhh…" Unable to think of anything to say, but knowing pride demanded something; she pulled his sweatshirt off, over her head, and tossed it on the sofa.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured as they gripped hands and moved slowly toward the bedroom.

"So are you." She stood on tip toes to trace the outline of his cheek. The rasp of his whiskers making her fingers tingle.

"Come on," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her while giving her hand a little tug.

Trembling with each step, Ainsley looked up at him coquettishly, determined to give as good as she got. "Sam, aren't you going to ask me what I've got on under this dress?"

He looked her up and down and for the third time that night admiring the view. "I figured I'd find out soon enough."

"But you don't want to know _right_ now?" The way her eyes sparkled he knew she had something intriguing in mind.

"All right, Miss Hayes, what do you have under that amazing dress?' He swung her around and backed her slowly through the bedroom door.

"Well since you ask so nicely, Mr. Seaborn, I'll tell you." She grinned up at him then stood back so she could enjoy the full impact of her words, "a thong and---"

"---All you're wearing is a _thong_?" His mind went almost blank as he stumbled over the word.

"Yes," she shrugged, "unless you count two little pieces of tape." She spread her thumb and fore-finger a few inches apart.

Sam was speechless. He mouthed the word 'tape,' as he tried to scrape together enough mental capacity to figure out what she could possibly have needed tape for.

"Well, I didn't want to ruin the lines of my dress if I…you know…if I got _chilly_." She looked all blue-eyed innocence as she shrugged her shoulders, raised her hands and pointed in the general vicinity of her halter top.

"Ainsley, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He moaned as a very erotic picture stuck in his mind.

"No, Sam, incentive." Her laughter was cut short when his eyes began to smolder.

"You don't think that dress was incentive enough?" His voice was low and gruff as he took slow meaningful steps toward her. Each step he advanced, she moved backward, until she was trapped against the side of the bed.

"Ah, Sam," she gasped when he advanced one step closer. His attention was focused totally on her and it made her feel as if she were melting. "You remember that thing you said about mediocre? You aren't the only one who puts 100 into everything they do."

"Ains," he whispered. "Has anyone ever accused you of being an over-achiever?" Each word was punctuated by a kiss. He worked his way down her neck before he quickly picked her up and dropped her on the bed.

"I think that's the pot calling the kettle bllaacckk"….Her power of speech disappeared, lost somewhere in the blue fire of his eyes.

"That is a most intriguing outfit you're wearing." His eyes never left her face as he lay down beside her and reached out to run his hand slowly over her hip and up the side of her body. "The question is, how to get you out of it, not so much the dress, but the tape is the real challenge." The hypnotic sound of his voice that accompanied the slow movement of his hand was driving her wild. "You realize removing it from sensitive skin may take me awhile." He grinned wickedly as he slide his thumb along the side of her breast to hook in the strap of her gown and carefully slip if off her shoulder.

"Sam," she breathed and shook with desire when he pressed her body into the mattress and covered her mouth with his. Shivering she hung onto him as his tongue probed deeply, while his hands slowly peeled away the silk. She tried to make her fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, but sometime in the last few minutes her coordination had deserted her. Then thinking was impossible, there was only doing, feeling and being.

………………

The next morning Sam Seaborn woke to find his arms wrapped tightly around Ainsley Hayes. Her head was on his shoulder and their bodies were pressed together. He gently smoothed back her hair and kissed her temple.

"Sam," she murmured fighting to get her eyes open.

"Hush, go back to sleep. It's Saturday, we don't have to be at work until 10:00 AM."

"Okay," she turned her head against his body and kissed her way up his neck.

"Yeah, that's a much better idea than sleeping." He laughed as he rolled her beneath him and began nibbling on her ear. She was the most amazing woman he'd ever met and he planned on keeping her for as long as she would have him.

……………....

Sam was right, they did become very complicated, very fast, but he'd been wrong when he said he couldn't promise her forever, because that night was a beginning. It would bind them together, as no words ever could. Even when they were apart, they belonged to one another. It would take them awhile to get it right, but when two over-achievers, who hate mediocrity, are involved, who could ever doubt that they would end up together.

**_The End_**

**_Reviews are always greatly appreciated_**


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